Classic Poem

I, to whom now the world has grown too strange,
May turn my meditation, well-content,
Upon the last unmarred competest change
Once feared, held now the surest muniment.

And so forboding speechless long repose
That shall receive my spirit after strife,
I hold the gates a moment ere they close
Pondering how I may say farewell to life. —

Shape what conclusion with my latest breath
And wisdom's ripeness to this end deferred?
By what confession win my shrift from death?
Sum up my love and hatred in what word?

" Here, Life, thy lover thou hast foully slain, "
But should I tell if I have loved thee right?
" Here's one who sought the live-long day in vain,
He knew not what; him overtook the night. "

Or this: " I found the things I did not seek,
And could not love them, for the things I sought. "
So mustering conclusions vain and weak
To hold the strength and depths of my last thought.

I'll grant the leave my day worn heart awaits
And turn in silence from the falling gates.